


Whispers in the dark

by Arial



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cannibalism, Lucifer's Cage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:26:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arial/pseuds/Arial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>«Why haven’t you stopped Sam?» Lucifer asked, venomously. «Why have you condemned us both? Why, Michael?»<br/>The eldest spit a mouthful of blood. His eyes were ablaze, but when he spoke his voice was as frigid as Cocytus. «You begged me to walk off the chessboard» he said. «I did.»</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers in the dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ratpenatu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratpenatu/gifts).



_“I’ll return from darkness and save your precious skin._  
_I will end your suffering and let the healing light come in._  
_I’ll go the distance, lead the way to your darkest sin._  
_You know there’s something coming down from the sky above.”_  
_(World on Fire – Les Friction)_

 

 

 

The ground was hard, unforgiving. The air around him was heavy and ill-scented. It was soiling him, slowly but surely.  
Michael closed his eyes, shivering. The cage was everything he expected and more: a dark, all-consuming pit, resembling more a black hole than the prison that it was.  
«Why?»  
The question came from behind, uttered in a tone that wasn’t even trying to hide the betrayal.  
It was Lucifer.  
Of course it was him, there wasn’t anyone else.  
«Why, brother?»  
He didn’t sound angry, just tired. Disappointed, perhaps.  
Michael turned to face him. «Why _what_ , Lucifer?» he retorted, as drained and spent as the other. «I’ve never been fond of riddles, you should at least remember that.»  
A sneer blossomed on Lucifer’s lips, defiling his beautiful face in a way that Hell never actually managed to. Michael felt a similar one stretching his own: once again, his little brother was the maker of his demise.  
The blow was fast, unexpected. Furious.  
«Why haven’t you stopped Sam?» Lucifer asked, venomously. «Why have you condemned us both? Why, Michael?»  
The eldest spit a mouthful of blood. His eyes were ablaze, but when he spoke his voice was as frigid as Cocytus. «You begged me to walk off the chessboard» he said. «I did.»  
Lucifer shook his head. «I’ve never asked for this. I’ve never asked for you to dive face first into this goddamn pit.» He fell to his knees. His hands were shaking, his lips quivering. «That’s not the place for an angel. That’s not the place for you.»  
«It wasn’t the place for you either,» he murmured, caressing Lucifer’s cheek with the back of his hand, «but I casted you here nonetheless.» He smiled softly. His jaw was set, but there was something in the way his eyes shone that made him look younger and – oh so much – vulnerable. «For the first time in my whole existence, the voice in my head is just my own: no hymns, no prayers, no orders. The war is over and I’m at peace, brother. Be at peace, too.»

 

* * *

 

Michael blinked sluggishly. A deep-bone ache had somehow found place inside him and he didn’t know how to get rid of it – nor he had the strength to actually care, for that matter. He felt weary, exhausted.  
A malevolent, chilling wind was blowing all around them. Michael could sense it creeping into his skull like a breathy echo, frighteningly similar to a voice.  
He rose to his feet and went to Lucifer.  
The rift between his brother and him had grown too big. It resembled an old wound: untreated and oozing pus, it spread and was now threatening the whole limb. No amount of antibiotic could heal it, not anymore, just like their last speech couldn’t repair them.  
«You blame me for your demise,» said Michael, «but it was you that couldn’t ultimately control Sam Winchester. You let that boy defeat you.» He shook his head, a cruel smile stretching his lips. «Me? I’m here of my own volition, little brother. I’ve won, while you’ve been once again put in this fetid corner. So tell me, how does that feel?»  
The surprise on Lucifer’s face didn’t last long. After a moment, he smiled too. «Why do you want to fight? Are your muscles stiff, Prince?» He stood up, amused. «Would you like sore ones better?»  
Michael grinned, then punched him; Lucifer swayed, but stood his ground and wholeheartedly returned the favor.  
The fight was brutal, merciless. They exchanged blow after blow with everything they had: eons of loss, hatred and betrayal poured out of them, as crimson and warm as their blood.  
Finally, Lucifer got the upper hand.  
He pinned his brother to the ground, viciously twisting and pulling Michael’s once pristine feathers.  
«Who’s like God?» Lucifer purred, against the shell of his ear. «Answer me.»  
The eldest didn’t reply. Breathless and dizzy from the effort, he just laid there. At his brother’s mercy.  
«Don’t be so stubborn, Michael. If you don’t answer, your screams will.» He placed a chaste kiss to the crown of his head, the barest brush of lips. «It’s one or the other, it makes no difference.»  
There was no response, just a whimper. A labored intake of air.  
Lucifer’s smile died, as he sensed Michael go limp and motionless under him.

 

* * *

 

«Our little sparring session didn’t end exactly as I fashioned» Lucifer spoke softly, cradling Michael against his chest. «Care to tell me why, brother?»  
The eldest shook his head. «Were you high on steroids?» he retorted, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. «I just feel off» he admitted then.  
«You provoked me into this fight to assess your strength. It wasn’t a wise course of action.»  
«I’m still alive, aren’t I?» Michael laughed, tired and still breathy. «Is that normal?» he asked after a while. «Did it happen to you, too?»  
«No, it didn’t.»  
They sat in a comfortable silence. It was Michael that broke it.  
«You don’t have to pamper me» he said. «I’m not going to shatter anytime soon.»  
Lucifer smiled against his brother’s neck. «Who said that’s about you?» he breathed, a warm puff of air on Michael’s cooling skin. «I have craved a soft, feathery pillow for the longest time and finally here you are, Prince.»  
Michael rolled his eyes. «Shut up» he said.  
The wind was less cruel, less chilling, cradled as he was in Lucifer’s arms; its voice didn’t quite manage to reach his ears anymore. Michael rested, thinking that maybe – just maybe – death was the sweetest thing that ever happened to him.

 

* * *

 

«You saw that?»  
«I didn’t» Lucifer replied for the umpteenth time, kissing his brother’s brow. He was gentle, always so gentle now. «I’m sorry.»  
«I’ll be faster next time» Michael assured him. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but it carried his fire still. «You will see.»  
He closed his tired, feverish eyes. Had his kind been prone to madness, Michael would have thought that he was losing it. But he knew better.  
There was something trapped with them, even if his brother couldn’t sense it.  
He had started to refer to it as the shadow. It was a dark, ghostly presence creeping around them. It had a set of six jet-black wings, approximately twelve feet span – just like his own.  
It had never been the wind, it was the shadow speaking to him all along.  
Michael hadn’t made out its words, at first. The language it uttered was foreign, all sharp syllables and short sentences. They’d sounded like orders; he’d yet to recognize them for what they really were: the luring chant of a siren. A summoning.  
He shook his head as to free it of a silvery cobweb. He felt like that thing was a spider and him – the first of all God’s sons – a helpless fly.  
Michael didn’t have a name for what he was experiencing, for something like that had never been in his heart before. He was terrified.  
_«Mikael.»_  
As soon as the shadow spoke, everything stopped hurting. The Prince was being addressed, so he opened his eyes. «Is it real?» he asked.  
Lucifer secured his palm on the hilt of his sword. «As we both are.» He placed a light kiss on Michael’s temple and rose to his feet, spreading his impressive wings as if to protect the eldest. «Don’t move» he ordered, oddly calm.  
Michael shook his head. «You’re no match for it, brother.» He tried to stand, but stopped halfway to his knees. Everything was spinning so fast. «Damn it» he swore, nauseous. «Lucifer, stand aside. Please.»  
The Morning Star smiled at his brother. «That pretty, little thing won’t come anywhere near you, I promise.» He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. The blade in his hand shining sinisterly. «You wanna dance? Let’s dance.»  
The shadow approached them, its face devoid of any expression. Only when Lucifer launched at it, its lips quipped in a wolfish sneer.  
It stopped the sword from sinking into its chest one-handed, effortlessly. Its claw-like nails dug into Lucifer’s flesh. It was with a sound resembling the snap of an old branch that the bone in his brother’s forearm shattered. Michael winced in sympathy.  
«Leave him alone!» he yelled. «You want me? Here I am, you hideous thing!»  
The shadow brushed a gnarled, rusted blade against the archangel’s throat. The touch was feathery like, as soft and tender as a mother’s kiss. When it pierced his skin, Lucifer couldn’t scream. But Michael did, for the both of them.  
His brother dropped to the ground with a sickening thud. Michael didn’t hear it: he was deaf and blind to everything except the thing in front of him.  
He felt no sickness or pain anymore, his dizziness disappeared too. He was ice.  
The shadow looked mildly surprised, then produced in a smile. An actual, honest to God grin that bared its long, pointy teeth. It climbed over his brother’s corpse without retrieving its sword. The Prince was disarmed as well: he didn’t want for it to be over too soon.  
He jumped and spread his wings midair, cascading on the adversary. He kicked it in the gut with all his might; they both tumbled to the ground.  
Michael struck the shadow down. Blow after blow, its face disappeared: gone were the high cheekbones – sharp, pinched, so alike his own and yet so different – gone was the fair complexion, drowned as it was in a sea of blood and purplish bruises.  
His hands were already red, when he sunk them into its chest and ripped it to shreds. The blood poured freely. It was thick and dense, crimson. Yet it didn’t resembled blood at all, for it was icy.  
Michael lifted his arms, they were trembling. He picked Lucifer’s sword up and plunged it into the thing. Forcefully, mercilessly. He pinned the shadow to the ground, just like one would do with an uncommonly beautiful butterfly.  
«We’re not done» he said. «We’re not even close.»  
His eyes drifted to Lucifer’s. His irides were vacant and glassy, his skin pale – already so pale. Michael forced himself to look away, to stare at the thing below him.  
_«You can’t save him»_ it breathed, through butchered lips. _«And you can’t kill me.»_  
The short hair on Michael’s neck stood up, the air around them suddenly charged.  
When the shadow had spoken, the blood on his skin had somehow ignited. He had felt powerful, invincible, as if a wave of molten fire was coursing through his veins.  
Michael smiled. «Maybe you’re right,» he admitted, sweetly, «but be assured of that: in the next couple of hours, you’re gonna pray that you weren’t.»  
He brushed his lips on the shadow’s ones. They were mangled, coppery. The Prince caught the upper one between his teeth. Tenderly, ever so tenderly.  
He pulled.  
A red, toothy smile greeted him, when he lifted his head. It was all gums and bones.  
Michael freed the thing’s brow of a thick, sweaty curl. A chunk of meat still hanging from his mouth. He gulped it down.

 

* * *

 

His eyes were heavy-lidded, his sight blurry.  
«Michael» Lucifer sighed. «What happened?»  
A hand cupped his face, as cold as Hell’s cruel wind. It was his brother’s. Every ounce of lethargy left his body at once and the Morning Star rose.  
«Where is that thing? What…» He froze midsentence, gulping bitter saliva. «Your eyes.»  
Michael smiled. «What about them, brother?»  
«They are lighter, paler. Dotted in black.» Lucifer circled them with the utmost care, his fingers brushing adoringly a skin that shouldn’t be allowed to be so cold. «You feel like it.»  
«I’m that thing» the eldest said, quietly. «I’ve always been.»  
Lucifer shook his head. «I don’t understand.»  
«What do you remember of your forging?»  
«I don’t remember anything, but what’s that supposed…»  
Michael shushed him. «You’re the Light Bearer for before you there wasn’t any light, just darkness.» His stare was distant, vacant. «Our Father made me out of that darkness. He shaped it into something fancy, something… conceivable. But it was darkness still. It couldn’t love Him, I couldn’t love Him.»He laughed mirthlessly. «He used to sing for me, you know? To placate… to subdue me, I suppose. He just made me sleepy.» Lucifer caressed his hand, but Michael couldn’t feel it: he was too far gone. «And then, this one time, I lashed out at Him, hurting us both in the process. He was heartbroken, I can see it now. I think that He weighed the idea of destroying me, but ultimately couldn’t.» The Prince shook his head, a sad smile still stretching his lips. «He then created you. I was so curious, there hadn’t ever been anything else, just Father and me. And now there was this blinding, fiery _thing_. He placed you in my hands. “Michael,” He said, “he’s yours to have. To protect. Do you understand?”» Michael smiled. «I did.»  
«He made this cage of the same darkness, didn’t He?» Lucifer’s voice was barely above a whisper. «For my penance was to be deprived of His love. That thing consumed you because of me.»  
«I’m still me, brother» assured the eldest. «I couldn’t hate you, never you.» He placed his lips on Lucifer’s. They were cold and pale, loving. «What do you want? Is that what you already have? Or is that Heaven?» Michael’s eyes were golden and black, his voice like ice. «I could give you His throne, if only you’d asked for it.»  
Lucifer enfolded him in his arms, he was smiling. «The war is over and I’m at peace, brother» he murmured against Michael’s skin. «Be at peace, too.»

**Author's Note:**

> ~ for the lovely Aizu ♥  
> I'm not a native speaker: have mercy, but point out each and every mistake. A thanks to my wonderful betas, AryYuna and Rocco - that saint of my boyfriend! =)


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